Bathing
by MisoKat
Summary: Baths were something Bran has always enjoyed, a luxury taken for granted, but the addition of Jojen Reed make the rare bath even better. As their slick bodies rub against one another, Bran and Jojen lose themselves in an abandoned keep on the Northern road. Warning: Smut and age changes. Also available to read on my AO3 account loverlyduck.
1. Chapter 1

Baths are a luxury in the North. The cold winds are unforgiving on the boiled water and the warmth barely lasts long enough to smooth out the tension in Bran's shoulders.

Baths are not only a luxury, but an annoyance. Bran must first be assisted in undressing, and then be lifted from his cart turned carriage and in to the chilling water. Then he must be carefully positioned up against the inside of the basin, or barrel, or other object passing for a proper tub, as to not fall in to the waters below. He then must be helped out of the tub once the water has become too cold to stand and redressed, only to be put back in his filthy clothes and in to the smelly cart—making the bath seemingly worthless.

A bath, while rare, useless and inconvenient, is the only thing Brandon Stark can think about as the cart bumps along the winding road of the North. Back at Winterfell he would bathe regularly, letting his shoulders fall beneath the steaming water, watching his hair swirl around his cheeks as he lets his lips touch the top—scalding his delicate skin. He would stay in their clawed bathtub until the fire in their bathing room went out and the tiles grew cold. Only when the coldness traveled up stone walls of the tub did he move. In the water, his legs floating above his body, he felt weightless.

His arms aren't as strong as they need to be. In Winterfell there was always someone to help him without him asking. There was always someone outside the door when he was done, and there were always fresh linens to change in to when he was toweled off. Out here in the unforgiving wilderness, he felt the years of pampering in his aching shoulders at the end of every long day.

Propping himself up in his cart, despite the burn of protest coming from his arms, he could see Jojen walking to his far right. His green eyes seeing where they would stop for the night long before Bran's blue. Wanting to turn to face forward, Bran dragged his body up and grunted in the effort. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a helpful nudge to fully turn his around. Bran glanced up to see Jojen looking down at him with a questioning glance. Jojen could see he was struggling with his movements and Bran grimaced at his concern—he doesn't like to be helped he can help himself.

Once Bran was facing North instead of South he let out of a sigh of relief upon seeing a ruined castle not too far in the distance. Even in ruin there was a promise of shelter from the biting winds and cover for a fire they were to build. A small smile planted itself on Bran's face, 'Maybe it will have a washing basin…' he thought wistfully. Still looking down at the little Lord, Jojen couldn't help but bask in Bran's happiness.

The idea that there was still a wash basin in this god forsaken place was indeed wishful thinking. The only thing left in the castle ruin was rocks, rocks, and more rocks. The occasional rat or roach would come out of the shadows and greet them, only to scurry back in to their rocky abodes. Bran's smile left his face as soon as he was wheeled in to the once Great Hall that was now rubble and dust. The ceiling was intact, that promised a fire at least.

In their months of traveling, they have only stumbled upon one wash basin, but it was Osha that found it and dragged it to Bran with a dirt-crusted smile. She knew he ached with the effort of supporting his crippled body and always sought to make him comfortable. The companions he had now knew nothing of his discomfort and he does not show weakness—he does not need help.

Jojen and Hodor always went together to gather supplies for the fires they build—Hodor came in handy when it came to carrying a large bundle of wood or a few chairs and other furniture. Jojen had keen eyes and a knack for building the wood in to suitable fires. Because Bran needed protecting, someone always stayed back with him and it was always Meera, being the handiest with weapons.

Bran did not talk to Meera; he was too embarrassed having to be protected by her all the time. He felt that he should be able to defend her, not the other way around. But with his legs sprawled out uselessly in front of him, he doubted he was going to do much protecting.

A loud, scraping noise was heard echoing through the empty halls of the ruined keep. The long, dragging screech chilled Bran and gave him gooseflesh. Meera was already standing, poised and ready in front of Bran's cart ready to strike whoever or whatever emerged from the dark entrance. As the noise became louder, it also became familiar to Bran in what way he did not know. He was worried about Jojen—whatever it was that was wailing through the halls might have found him first. And Hodor, the loveable giant must be so confused with the great sound.

An impossibly large figure appeared in the doorway and Meera instantly lowered her weapon as to not scare the half-giant. Hodor stopped in the entrance, confused, but then quickly resumed his business of dragging a large, white basin behind him—the metal claws useless and broken on the bottom. Bran was in shock—a real tub in the middle of a ruined castle that wasn't demolished by stones? How lovely!

"Thank you Hodor, but not in here—in the next room." Jojen stepped in to the room next, instructing Hodor to continue dragging the perfect basin in to an adjacent room housing the only useable door in the entire keep. Jojen then dropped his findings of broken chairs and a large pot in the center of the room.

When Jojen looked up he locked eyes with Bran and smiled—it's been too long since Bran saw that smile. His green eyes lit up with excitement and his golden tresses caught the natural moonlight in a way that the reflection framed his soft features. Bran could not help but smile back, giddy at the proposition of a nice warm bath.

It took Hodor, Meera and Jojen together to gather water from the river, boil it, and then dump the scalding contents in the cold tub. The moon was highest in the sky when they were finished filling the basin and the steam rising off the water looked so inviting it took all of Jojen's will power to not jump in. Bran's first, he's always first in Jojen's mind.

When Jojen opened the door to the Great Hall, he heard Hodor snoring and the high pitch whistles of his sister's sleeping before seeing Bran. He was reclining patiently against the wall next to his cart, the wolf pelts strewn about him in a bed-like fashion. Bran heard the door squeak open and looked up in anticipation.

Jojen silently crept over to Bran and knelt down beside him. "Your bath is ready Lord Stark." He whispered in his ear, putting his lips against its shell. He felt Bran shiver has his hot breath caressed his face, eyes drifting to look at Jojen. Bran needed to be carried to the bath and Jojen was more than happy to oblige.

He leaned closer to Bran, settling one of his arms underneath his shoulders and the other picking up his frail legs. He felt Bran's discomfort as he picked him up bridal style and carried him in to the makeshift washroom. Using his foot he closed the door and placed Bran on one of the unbroken chairs he found within the ruins. With a singular mindset, he started undoing the many layers of Bran's armor, starting on his chest. However, once he begun a quick hand stopped his movements.

"I can do the top ones myself…" Bran mumbled his face flushed and hot. Jojen had to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry upon seeing Bran unsettled. Bran shifted in the wooden chair, using his hands to grab the edge of the chair and prop himself up. Jojen noticed him wince with effort and immediately began to help him situate himself so that he could remove his clothing.

"No!" Bran almost shouted at Jojen as his hands rested on the younger boy's arms. Jojen let go and took a step back, realizing there's a limit to the amount he can assist his little Lord and taking note he doesn't like to be touched by him. Whenever Osha helped Bran with his adjustments and normal shifting movements Bran accepted it and always thanked her for the help. That smile is replaced with a grimace and a discomfort that Jojen is ashamed he caused.

Jojen now a few steps back watched as Bran unlaced himself and slowly removed pieces of clothing. His mouth, which was once dry, began to salivate as Bran became topless in front of him. Lord Stark was a thin boy, but his upper body was becoming toned with the added strain of his own handicap. His arms were sleek and his chest had small formations of muscle dotting along his torso. His collar bone appeared the most pronounced and as he moved to undo his own breeches Jojen couldn't be patient any longer. He rushed forward, practically drooling and went for the rest of Bran's burdensome clothing. He could hear Bran stammering in protest, but nothing he could say not would keep him away from seeing his Lord fully naked. As Jojen started pulling down his final layer of bottoms, Bran steadied his breath and put both hands on Jojen's torso, softly pushing him away. Jojen's heart sank.

"I'm sorry Bran." Jojen spoke first, "I was only trying to help you…" He stopped talking when Bran shook his head.

"No. It's not that…" Bran's voice trembled as he grabbed the top of his breeches and bundled them in his hands. "I don't want you to see them…" He hid his face, looking down in to his lap. Jojen took a step forward and knelt in front of Bran so he could see his face. It was twisted in agony and shame.

"Don't want me to see what…?" Jojen places his hands over Bran's as tears fell from his eyes and hit lap. Jojen could feel his chest constrict with the pain his Bran was feeling. He heard Bran's breath come slow and shallow as he tried to calm his emotions. Bran was never one for showing weakness and in his state it took a lot of willpower and control to everything he was feeling, but the one person he can't hide from is Jojen and his piercing green eyes.

Bran calmed himself enough to stutter out, "M-My legs…" He closed his eyes hard against the confession, willing it to go away. "They're disgusting…" He gripped the tops of his breeches harder and pulled him up his torso. Jojen had never thought of how Bran's legs would become after they had gone useless. The curiosity alone pursued him to gently stroke Bran's arms until the younger boy looked up at him, pleading at him with blue eyes to not go any further. Jojen went against Bran's internal wishes and brought his hands up to cup the sides of Bran's face, bringing his lips closer to his.

Jojen could feel Bran's breath ghost over his lips as he said, "Nothing about you could ever disgust me Bran." The older boy leaned forward slightly to close the gap between them. Bran's breath hitched in his throat as his eyes fluttered shut. The warmth of his friend's lips on his own brought out his confidence and he released the tight hold he had on his bottoms. He instead opted to wind his fingers through Jojen's hair and press his face harder in to own. Jojen chuckled lightly in to their kiss and took this opportunity to take Bran's mouth fully.

Their tongues swirled around deep in each other's mouths, tasting their want for one another. Bran moaned as Jojen took control of his mouth and proceeded to lean his head back further to gain more access. Bran feverishly grasped for Jojen's neck as his own head was tilted back and Jojen placed one hand behind his head and the other was slowly pulling down Bran's breeches.

Bran didn't notice his own pants were off until Jojen lifted himself off the chair bridal style yet again and carried him to the tub. He abruptly broke the kiss to stammer out, "N-No my legs—you can see them stop!"

Bran leaned forward in Jojen's arms in a feeble attempt to cover up his exposed bottom half, but Jojen lowered his arm that housed Bran's upper half, making Bran almost fall backward, and whispered, "Don't. I want to see you."

Bran's blush never left his cheeks as Jojen lowered him in the still warm water. Properly placed in the tub, Bran was finally able to look at Jojen as Jojen admired him. He saw the way his eyes traced down his body, stopping every so often to appreciate certain curvatures. As his eyes wandered down, Bran flinched, afraid of his reaction to his small, boney legs just barely supporting a pitiful layer of muscle that has not yet atrophied. However, as his eyes continued down, Bran was surprised that his appreciative smile never left his face.

Jojen walked behind him, placing himself at the head of the tub where Bran's shoulders and arms rested against the sides. He placed his arms on Bran's shoulders and began to rub the warm water in to his muscles. Bran moaned at the touch and leaned forward, allowing Jojen more access to his knotted muscles. He felt hands and lips kiss his skin as Jojen continued to work, following every long massage with hesitant kisses trailing across his shoulders and down his spine. He didn't know how to tell Jojen how good it felt, so Bran kept moaning and gasping, loving the release of his tension. When the rubbing stopped, Bran turned to see Jojen reappear at the side of the tub, his breeches strained over his arousal, but Bran couldn't look away.

Bran watched as Jojen began taking off his own clothes. "What are you doing?" Bran asked in a small voice, still watching as Jojen skillfully undid his own laces and knots. His question was soon answered as Jojen stood naked before him; his body fit and muscled from their years of walking and hunting in the harsh unforgiving North. Jojen was much more toned than Bran was and he felt subconscious again as he noticed that Jojen's own legs were strong and whose muscles were in the places they were supposed to be.

"Joining you, my Lord." Was all Jojen said before stepping over the lip of the tub.

Bran picked up his legs and placed the pads of his feet on the floor of the tub the best he could, making room for Jojen's entry. The task was awkward and in the end his feet pointed inward and his knees knocked together, but it was enough for Jojen to slip in and properly place Bran's legs atop of his own, the water lapping at their shoulders with the added body. It was still warm and Bran could feel his tension go down in his shoulders, and then come rushing right back as the situation dawned heavily on him.

Jojen, a boy he found interesting and intriguing, yet annoying and persistent, was now sharing a long awaited bath with him in the dark room adjacent to Hodor and Meera. It was impossible to enjoy the soothing sensations of the water with the look Jojen is giving him from across the basin. He sees Jojen's hands run up and down his legs, grasping the skin there and sliding up and down. He can see it, but can't believe he is witnessing someone willingly caress the dilapidated bone he calls legs. The useless appendages look ugly in comparison to Jojen's firm legs resting beneath him. He can see that without Jojen's hands, his legs would float up and leave him off balance.

His hands move faster, and higher up as Bran relaxes, trying to take in the temporary luxury and ignoring the sweet nerves pooling in the center of his stomach. No one has ever touched him so intimately and he approves of the attention, even it's on his disfigured legs. And that kiss… The warmth still lingers on his lips, making the bath water seem cool by comparison. He's never been kissed before, but the skill Jojen showed in it made him suddenly bashful again, crossing his arms across his bare chest. His eyes locked again with Jojen's and the smolder was obvious in the older boy's eyes—he wanted Bran and Bran didn't know how to feel about that.

He felt good when he was being kissed, he felt good in the water, he felt even better seeing Jojen climb in with him, but where does the feeling good stop and the torment of the next step begin. Jojen's stroking was settled on Bran's thighs now. Bran hadn't noticed how high he'd gone or how dangerously close he was to his arousal—or the fact he was aroused. His erection was visible under the clear water and the tip leaked pre-cum in to the shared tub. Seeing Jojen stare at it hungrily made it twitch and beg for Bran to touch it.

Jojen went to work bringing their bodies closer, moving Bran's legs to his sides and hooking them around his back, bending the knees and placing Bran's ass firmly on his own thighs. Bran could feel how hard Jojen was now as their cocks rubbed against one another in the warm water. Bran's breath hitched as the sweet friction radiated through his body and he put his hands on Jojen's shoulders for more purchase in the slippery basin. Using Jojen's shoulders, he carefully rocked his own torso back and forth, trying to create more friction between their lower halves—to repeat the same feeling. Jojen couldn't stop himself from helping, thrusting upward in to Bran's grinding motion. Bran tilted his head back, their members slipping over one another in a lazy pattern of two boys sloppy and inexperienced with their own sex. Jojen reached down in between them to grab both of their members firmly in his hand before thrusting up again, whilst pumping them together. Bran whined in the back of his throat, the feeling was too surreal and too vivid—too much for his body to handle on its own. He looked back down at Jojen, who was looking up at him, lips parted, hair wet and sticking to his forehead, and their cocks entwined together in his fingers. He leaned down and captured the golden haired boy's lips in a heady kiss. The older boy returned the kiss with more enthusiasm and pressed his chest in to Bran's, trying to get as close to the little Lord as possible.

Their kiss smacked and echoed through the room, the basin sloshed and with the water becoming waves, their breathing erratic and labored. The sounds they made together were mixing together in an orchestra of lust and passion, of which neither had any idea the origin. Bran's lips were melded with Jojen's; their tongues knowing nothing else than the others; their teeth clattering together in the frenzied fashion of their heated kiss; all while Jojen strokes and pulls at their manhood's. Neither had experienced anything like the other, the feeling of their bodies together, the touch of their skin against one another, the intimacy within the basin—it felt right and both moaned and groaned in to each other's mouths indicating their own satisfaction. Jojen broke the kiss to look at Bran, a fresh sheen of sweat covering his face, the embarrassment gone, his dark Stark locks against his beautiful pale skin, and that smile that left his face too soon when Jojen stroke hard at their members. He couldn't stop himself from pleasuring Bran—he wanted to please him and this has been the happiest he's seen his Lord in months.

He could feel himself being pushed over the edge, but the need to wait for Bran was stronger than his need to come. "You always come first." He whispers, his voice deep and husky in Bran's ears. He hears Bran moan and the soft keening sound convinces Jojen to keep going, "Come for me, Bran." He continues, licking the outer shell of his ear. Bran comes hard—he can feel him pulsating in his hand and can feel the warm, sticky wetness making its way through the once-clear water. The feeling of the younger boy coming sends Jojen over as well with two hard thrusts he comes, their seed mixing together in the dirtied water.

Bran rests his head against Jojen's shoulder, both breathing heavier and faster their chests rise and fall with one another and they can feel the wetness of their skin against each other. The feeling sparks a fire in Jojen that he can't deal with quite yet. Jojen holds Bran tightly, not caring about the filth in the tub or the numbness in his legs—he could hold Bran as long as he would let him. He cared about this boy so much, and would do anything for him, and after this night he would not be able to part himself from his side for many nights to come.

The bath had run cold many minutes ago, but Bran couldn't will himself to peel away from Jojen. The older boy was like a rock to him, an island in the middle of an ocean. He felt attached to him, drawn to him, and the idea of leaving their basin made him sad and lonely, like he had been for years. This green eyed boy had helped him without pitying him and looked at his legs and accepted Bran even with his disfigurement. He came with him in a heat of passion unlike Bran has ever known. The very idea of this boy existing boggled Bran and the idea that this boy existed and had been right beside him for as long as Jojen had made him even more unbelievable.

When Bran pulled back from the iron grip he had on Jojen's shoulders, Jojen also released Bran's torso, looking up at him expectantly. Bran leaned down once more to kiss Jojen, their bruised lips joining together once again, wetting their chapped skin with fresh, moist kisses. When Bran violently shuddered in the cold water, Jojen jumped to get him out of the freezing liquid. The basin was like ice and the tile was no different. Jojen stepped out of the basin and on to the tile with a wince, Bran watching his face and keeping a wet hand on Jojen's cheek. Jojen set his Lord down on the same chair, setting his legs in front of him in a proper fashion, and quickly threw one of Bran's pelts on his torso before dressing himself. Bran laughed as the seemingly confident boy fluttered about the room gathering up his discarded clothing and hurriedly pulling them on before the cold seeped in to his bones.

Jojen took a moment when fully clothed to laugh with Bran and hit him lightly on the shoulder for making fun of his misfortunes. Bran blushed at the contact and watched again as Jojen gathered up his clothes and began to dress him. Bran let Jojen dress him fully this time, relishing the touch of the older boy in the cold room. His skin was turning warm once more and the feeling of his fingertips against his bare skin made him shiver in want.

By the time Jojen finished dressing Bran, the younger boy was already aroused again and wanting to touch Jojen in a close, intimate, warm bed. The older boy picked Bran up once again bridal style and carried him back out to his makeshift bed of pelts. Bran expected Jojen to go and join his sister and Hodor at the other end of the room, but instead the older boy shifted them so Bran was laying on his side and snuggled himself right up against Bran's back.

"Jojen, what are you do—" Bran asked, but was cut off by Jojen who tipped Bran's head back and took his lips with his own. It was a soft, slow kiss with slow rolls of tongue and light, caressing touches. Bran took the attention and drank in Jojen's affections towards him as he returned them three fold. When Bran's heavy breathing turned in to soft moans, Jojen pulled back and situated himself so he leaned away from Bran's face. Bran whined and Jojen chuckled.

"That's enough for tonight, Bran." He smiled down at his new lover and stroked the back of his hand down Bran's cheek, "You need your rest." He gave him one more chaste kiss before lying back down amongst the pelts. Bran could feel his hand on his stomach, his breath on his neck, and his arousal rubbing against his back. Bran felt he loved this boy Jojen Reed, and was excited for this night and the many nights that were to come.


	2. Chapter 2

The nights melded together as the two boys became familiar with the other's body. Jojen enjoyed positioning Bran in tantalizing new positions to mesh their bodies in to. Bran enjoyed feeling Jojen's hands under his furs as he arched his torso to gain more friction from his delicate touches.

Many starry nights were filled with hushed whispers and soft moans of the boys exploring each other and drinking in their mutual desires. It was difficult to silence their cries in the cramped campsites and more than once Jojen had to separate himself from Bran, still hard and wanting because of a stir from the other companions.

Tonight was no exception, and right when Bran's cock was firmly in Jojen's grasp, the half-giant rolled over on his side with a grunt in preparation to stand up. It was easy to unwind his hand form the confines of Bran's breeches and vault himself backward from his lover, but it was difficult seeing Bran writhing and moaning in discomfort, needing attention to his arousal and Jojen lying on the cold ground, not being able to please him. Hodor lumbered unseeing to the nearest tree to relieve himself, he did not notice the close proximity of the two boys or how Bran was releasing himself from his trousers, grabbing himself tightly. His timid fingers met his erection and Jojen saw the tension dissipate from his features. He watched as Bran finished himself, his breathing shallow and his hand working hard, fast, his eyes fluttering closed. He let out a few choked gasps before coming on his own hand, relishing in the feeling reverberating in his body. Jojen could see him shiver in delight as Bran's eyes slowly blinked open and he looked at him. Jojen would have his own member in hand, stroking lazily until Hodor would emerge from the woods again and go back to sleep. He wanted Bran to make him come, and Jojen almost did just from watching. This beautiful boy, staring at him with half-lidded eyes, fur gathered around his face, blending with his dark hair and soft features.

Bran was entranced with Jojen's movements. Watching him do slow, gentle touches to himself from what seemed like miles away. Bran couldn't touch him, not yet. He was unfulfilled having to come so quickly. He wanted Jojen to do what he normally did—tease and torment him and his arousal until they came together. The feeling of Jojen's hand with his own, fervently pumping at each other's cocks—just the remembrance of it stirred a deep desire in his belly. His chest became tight as he continued to watch as Jojen locked eyes with his and licked his full, kissable lips. Bran reached his messy hand out, beckoning to Jojen to come back, to join him in the furs, but he knew Jojen was careful, and he knew Jojen would wait until the giant was sound asleep before going any further.

Eons passed before Hodor lumbered back in to camp, fully relieved, and laid down among the grass and muck yet again. Jojen wasted no time hurrying back over to Bran's side; crouching low among the brush, kneeling down and picking Bran's delicate form up in the only way he knew how, with an arm behind his shoulder and an arm under his feather-light knees. Bran wanted to cry out, ask him what he was doing, but didn't want to risk waking up their companions for a second time. He wanted Jojen, and would follow him wherever he took him.

Jojen continued to kneel and using the hand under Bran's leg, picked through the furs until he found the largest one, and laid it on top of Bran. Bran wrapped his arm around Jojen's neck, and the other held tight to the pelt, unknowing of its purpose. Jojen smirked as he stood almost straight up and sulked through the forest, getting far away from the camp as silently as possible. He had a sneaking suspicion that Bran was going to enjoy this very much.

They traveled for only a few minutes, but Jojen's feet were sure and quick. His strong legs carried them in to a clearing, so far that Bran could no longer see the smoke rising from their extinguished fire. The air was cold away from the comfort of camp, but Jojen's chest was warm and his breath was hot. Bran needed this boy, his attention, his affection, everything—and he couldn't stop himself from leaning up and kissing the tender flesh of his exposed neck. He tasted the sweat of his efforts carrying through the forest, he tasted the dirt caked on both their skin, he licked the area he kissed and took the whole in to his mouth, sucking lightly. He felt Jojen moan, the vibrations traveling through his busy lips, the sensation making Bran groan. He sucked harder, wanting to mark the boy who gives him such affections and wanting to let it be known to everyone that Jojen Reed was his to keep.

Jojen's legs grew weak as Bran suckled at his neck, the sensation new and intimate. He felt the younger boy snake his fingers through his hair and tug lightly to expose more of his sensitive flesh. He felt his lips move down, wanting to kiss further, but his collar made it difficult and Bran whimpered.

"Be patient, love." Jojen said before stopping at the far edge of the clearing, just under the cover of the forest but still in the light of the slivered moon. The night was dark, the stars providing little light, but Jojen could see Bran, and that's all he wanted.

He laid the pelt down first in a hurried fashion, awkwardly reaching over Bran with the hand that supported his legs and grabbing the pelt with haste. He flung it down on the ground, hoping it would be as comfortable as he'd hoped. He gently rested Bran on the fur, letting the warmth envelop him before he ripped all his clothes off. Jojen make quick work of his clothing, removing every peace much to Bran's amusement. He shook off his final layer and looked down to see Bran had already taken off everything on his torso and was working on his breeches. Jojen crawled on to the pelt, closer to the young boy, and distracted him from his unclothing with a kiss.

They hadn't been alone since the night in that castle, and every hushed, whispered night grew unbearable. When their lips met, Bran let out a loud, keening moan that he'd been quieting for too many nights. Jojen was encouraged by this and immediately entangled his tongue with Bran's. The younger boy gasped, and clawed at Jojen's bare shoulders, raking his fingers down his arms and back up to explore his torso. Bran could feel the heat coming from his thighs and begged to be naked with him. Jojen clambered on top of Bran, straddling his hips and keeping his torso above Bran's.

Jojen never broke their kiss as he helped Bran with his trousers, stopping only to catch his breath and filling those moments with quick, hard kisses, enjoying the feeling of their lips colliding together. They knew no greater pleasure than this, and they needed one another.

Bran's breeches were gone and Jojen could feel Bran's hands on his back, urging his body closer to his. He complied and rested his hips against Bran, feeling the sweet friction of their cocks running against one another, pre-cum making it wet and sticky. Bran's own arousal was back and Jojen paid much attention to it, grinding his own together with his. Bran's moans came fast now, turned on by the overwhelming sensation. Jojen finally broke their kiss to lean back and smile a lustful smile at Bran and grind their erections together yet again. He watched as Bran wiggled beneath him, and grabbed at his body, wanting to feel more.

Jojen was alarmed when he heard a quiet, "Stop…" escape Bran's trembling lips. Jojen immediately froze and looked up at the younger boy, questioning. "I…I want to take you in my mouth." He watched as the Stark boy reddened at the request, but Jojen's mouth went dry. He wasted no time crawling farther up the boy's body until his knees rested in the pit of Bran's arms and his arousal within Bran's reach. Bran looked at Jojen's impressive manhood and was suddenly unsure of himself. He reached a tentative hand up and wrapped his fingers around it. He heard Jojen moan, a guttural sound making it obvious how much he wanted Bran to take him.

"A-Are you sure?" Jojen breathed out, breathless from Bran's contact and excited on the prospect of being so close to him. Bran nodded and propped himself up on his other arm, putting Jojen's cock to his lips. Jojen groaned and whispered words of encouragement to Bran, willing him to go on and try. Bran found his courage and wrapped his lips around the head. He felt Jojen twitch in his mouth and Bran lightly licked the head, coming back only to tongue around the curvature of the tip.

The amount of self-restraint was unbelievable. Jojen wanted to thrust in to the boy's mouth and fuck it. It was so warm, and wet, and so inviting. Bran was so excited, so eager to please, but so scared. Jojen put his hand behind Bran's head, running his fingers through his hair, while the other hand lay behind him on the pelt, using it as support. The massive amount of stimulus Bran was giving him almost made him want to faint. He was going to explode if Bran did not take him fully—and soon.

Bran continued to lick the pre-cum that was leaking from Jojen until he heard a painful whine come from the back of Jojen's throat. Bran looked up, unsure of how to continue—was it that bad? Bran had just wanted to taste him, and taste him fully. Bran decided that before Jojen changed his mind, he should get a real taste. He suddenly, took Jojen whole in to his mouth. The way Jojen filled his mouth was comfortable, but he could not fit it all. He used his hand on the base and just licked, and licked around his cock endlessly, only backing off of it when he tasted more wetness at the tip, and went to lick t off.

Jojen leaned his head back and moaned, finally feeling the fullness of Bran's lips against his cock, the wetness surrounding it, and his shy tongue making laps around his shaft. He could feel his warm breath surrounding his arousal, and bucked his hips in to Bran's mouth when he went to pull away. Bran understood and continued to lavish Jojen's manhood with attention.

"Bran… I'm going to come…" He breathed out, doing shallow thrusts in to the warm confines of Bran's eager mouth. Bran kept going, wanting to taste Jojen to the very end. Bran could feel it before Jojen came, the constriction of the muscles, the reverberation of the release passing through his lips, and the warm liquid resting on his tongue, and shooting in the back of his mouth. He swallowed it as he had swallowed the pre-cum and the many sweat and mud tastes of Jojen before. He did a thorough cleaning before letting Jojen have his cock back, satisfied with his own performance.

Jojen wasted no time rolling Bran on his side and lying down next to him, crushing him in to an embrace; Bran's still hard member rubbing against Jojen's thigh, sending rushes on passion through his loins, willing himself to become hard again. He pushed Bran's head in to the crook of his neck and buried his face in his hair. It smelled of the woods and of sex.

"I want to fuck you." Jojen mumbled huskily in to Bran's hair, "I want to fuck you in to this pelt." Bran's grip became tighter on Jojen's back; he felt tremors of pleasure tumble through his smaller form. Jojen peeled himself away from Bran to look him in the eyes. He could see he was scared, but he could also see the curiosity and the lust glimmer in his eyes. Bran pressed his lips against Jojen's, in a long, simple kiss.

"Please?" Was all Bran asked, and it was all Jojen needed to hear. He put a finger to Bran's lips, and he hungrily took it in his mouth. Jojen could feel his tongue wrap around his finger as it had just done to his own arousal, and as he removed it, it was slick with Bran's own spit. He reached down, between their bodies, and hooked one of Bran's legs around his own hip for him. He reached down more, past his desire and to his entrance. Bran leaned in to Jojen, giving him more access and resting his head on the older boy's strong shoulder. Jojen circled it first, spreading the moisture around and feeling Bran's hands ball in to fists.

"Relax, Bran…" Jojen breathed in to his ear. Bran relaxed to his voice and Jojen slowly entered one finger up to the knuckle. Bran groaned with the unfamiliar feeling, and tried to bury his head farther in to Jojen's shoulder. Jojen was still for a long moment, until he was sure Bran was used to the sensation. Once Bran's breathing slowed, he entered a second finger, using the moisture of the first. This made Bran hiss in discomfort, the friction causing him to whine and shift his torso. Jojen snaked his free arm under the side of Bran that was on the pelt, and ran his hand up and down Bran's back, soothing him.

"It won't always hurt." He assured his darling boy, "It will feel good, I promise." He turned his head to face Bran, who lifted out of Jojen's shoulder to look at him. Jojen looked so confident, so happy, so excited, that Bran couldn't help but feel the same way. Jojen took his lips in a long, smoldering kiss, using the distraction to move his two fingers around, stretching Bran in a more pleasant way. He continued exploring Bran with those two fingers, taking full advantage of his created distraction. The kiss was hot on the cold night, and their lips became slick and sloppy. They slipped over each other's faces, leaving trails of wet kissed down their cheeks. Bran's face became flushed and red, his eyes hazy and his mouth fervent and wanting. The kisses Bran gave him came harder and faster, as Jojen's prodding became successful. The never ending moans coming from Bran's mouth and the friction created by his writhing sent chills down Jojen's spine and blood rushing to his arousal.

He continued to touch Bran's sensitive insides until Bran's hands pushed his chest away from him. "J-Jojen, I… I need you…" Bran stuttered, unable to control the moans that came out afterward. He was at his limit and like hell Jojen was going to make him wait any longer. He retracted his fingers slowly, feeling the way Bran's muscles seized up against him, and took his own manhood in his hands. It was nearly hard yet again and Bran hungrily took him in to his mouth, using his now experience tongue to run wetness up and down his shaft focusing a little too often on the tip making Jojen convulse forward, banding over Bran's head. He needed this as much as Jojen wanted this, and he was going to make it last as long as possible. Bran let his cock go only after being thoroughly lubricated, and Jojen wasted no time positioning Bran's legs open and putting himself between them. He kneeled in front of his entrance and lifted his ass with both hands, pooling the sides of the pelt under it to serve as a pillow. Bran wiggled down the pelt, giving Jojen a full view and wonderful access. Jojen leaned forward and kissed the sensitive skin of his hip before finally pushing in. The swell of the pressure made Bran gasp and bite his lip—the pain of the friction unpleasant and not lessened by his ample application of natural moisture. The look of discomfort flashed across his face only for a moment, but Jojen saw it. He stayed his movements and waited for the muscles to relax yet again.

Bran gripped Jojen's arms, using them to sit up and look at him, his face full of concern. Bran smiled at him and gave him yet another light kiss. That was enough to convince Jojen to push all the way inside his lover. It was warm, not like his mouth—better. It was tight, and enveloped him a sheath of Bran. Bran groaned and fell back down on the pelt. He kept his hand on Jojen's arms and persuaded him forward. Jojen complied and kissed Bran breathless, tasting his sweet mouth once again.

Long minutes passed before Jojen felt well enough to move. When he did, Bran moaned appreciatively, the friction between them becoming more bearable. He moved slow, kissing Bran's neck, collarbone, shoulder, chest, stomach, hipbone, down as far as he could go in attempts to continue to sooth him. Bran placed his hands in Jojen's hair as his mouth traveled down and grabbed on to his soft curls. Jojen groaned, feeling Bran tug gently on his hair. It was rough, but loving and the sensation went right down to his cock. He thrust hard in to Bran, reveling in the chocked moan he gave. Using that as leverage, Jojen continued his thrust, pulling out slow and thrusting hard.

"A-Ah, yes, Jojen, yes—." Bran's eyes filled with stars, the emotion in every thrust pooling deep in his belly. The feeling was immeasurable. His own ignored arousal growing impatient, he reached down and took hold of himself. The feeling of Jojen inside him and his own hand against his pulsing flesh was like nothing he could have ever imagined. He felt so filled up and so wanted. He felt something new as Jojen thrusted in the same place his fingers had prodded. He arched his back as much as he could, hoping to keep the position of Jojen's thrusts. The spot was so sensitive, so indescribable. He felt his own strokes get harder as Jojen's thrusts became frenzied. He felt Jojen's hand join his and continued to pump. Both hands, entangling together and Jojen's hips thrusting erratic, the sound of skin meeting skin, the slick sound of sliding in and out, Bran focused on Jojen's face, contorted in immense pleasure, and found a second release.

As he came it flowed out of him in uneven amounts, covering first their hands, then his own chest. Jojen grunted and groaned with one final thrust, pushing himself as deep as he could in Bran. He came hard, grinding his hips in to Bran, riding out his orgasm. He stayed inside Bran a moment longer; letting it all flow in to the boy he loved. Bran's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, Jojen's own breathing labored and uneven. He found the strength to pull out of the warm confines of his lover and sit back on the pelt, soon to be filthy with his mess. He smiled as Bran propped himself up on his elbows, his arms shaking of a lingering orgasm. Jojen sat up and grabbed the younger boy under the arms and sat him in his lap, Bran's back to his chest. He embraced the boy from behind, feeling Bran's own mess covering his chest. He laughed a bit and snuggled in the crook of Bran's neck.

"You're amazing." Jojen said in to Bran's neck, letting his hot breath ghost over the cold skin there. Bran tensed and then relaxed again in his embrace.

"Jojen…" He whispered so low Jojen could barely hear him. Jojen lifted his head, to see Bran looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "I really liked that." Bran smiled, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

Jojen flushed, watching this beautiful boy smile floored him and sent his heart in to his throat. The fact he's smiling at him, saying he enjoyed intimacy with him—Jojen fell back, taking Bran with him. Bran let out a startled cry as Jojen's back hit the pelt and Bran was flipped over to face him, his legs falling uselessly to the side of their bodies as their stomachs touched.

Bran was never positioned over Jojen; he was embarrassed with the angle and the inability to move off of him. However, with this angle, he was suddenly in control of Jojen. He moved his arms from his side, settling his forearms on either side of Jojen's head. He took a fistful of those loose curls yet again and pulled hard, exposing his delicate neck to him again.

"We can do this as much as you'd like, Lord Stark." Jojen said with a devious smirk. Bran liked the sound of that, and leaned down to press his lips to the older boy's neck, adding to the bruise already forming.

The day was cold, and long. The sun came up too soon and Jojen was exhausted not only from the previous night's activities, but carrying, Bran who had fallen asleep not long after, and a filthy pelt back through a dense forest back to camp. The mess would dry up and blend in with the mud eventually, but he hid it within the pelts of the cart anyway. They would use it again, he was sure of it.

Bran was back asleep in the cart, snoring softly, twitching every so often in fitful dreams. Jojen would occasionally lean down and place a hand on his forehead, which would become covered in sweat, and it seemingly calmed the little Lord down enough for peaceful dreams.

"Oy, Jojen." Meera burst out, eyeing her brother curiously as he placed his hand back on Bran's head yet again.

"Yes, dear sister?" Jojen responded, not taking his eyes off of Bran and his slight fit.

Meera hurried to her brother's side and inserted herself in front of him, making Jojen look at her and let go of Bran's forehead. "You get bit or something?" She asked, tilting her head to see the purple and red marks on the side of Jojen's throat.

The question caught him off guard, Jojen's hand fluttered up to cover his neck, not knowing how to respond to such an odd question, or if the question is irrelevant and she already knows the answer. His sister sees everything, and she's not dumb. Jojen tried to change the subject, "Why, did something bite you, big sister?" He rubbed around his neck, trying to pretend he didn't know exactly where Bran kissed him.

Meera shook her head, "Covering up isn't going to make me un-see them, you know." His sister poked two fingers in to his neck on top of his guarding hand, marking where the two bruises were. Jojen's neck flushed with embarrassment, thank goodness Bran was sleeping, and he wouldn't be able to keep himself composed, although Jojen wasn't doing very well either.

"Maybe sleeping on rocks isn't agreeing with my skin." Sure, it wasn't the best excuse, but he wasn't about to tell his older sister that the young wolf enjoys licking at his neck after nights of passion.

"What do you mean 'sleeping on rocks'?" Meera scoffed, "You get to sleep on pelts with the Lord of Winterfell while Hodor and I sleep on the rocks." She punched his shoulder, "I don't think the _furs _of wolves gave you those bruise, little brother." She gave him a knowing look and fell back to behind the cart.

Jojen scoffed and ignored his sister's prodding and teasing, of course she had already figured it out, and of course she already knew about his and Bran's perversions. He knew his sister meant no harm and would not interfere, but when he looked down at the cart again, Bran was awake, starting wide eyed—mortified at Meera obvious knowledge of their nightly doings. Jojen sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. Bran looked up with pleading eyes and Jojen gave him a reassuring smile.

"They mark me as his. I'll wear them like armor." Bran stuttered and choked on his own gasp, shocked at Jojen's sudden confession, as Jojen chuckled at his over dramatic reaction.

Meera shook her head and continued walking on toward the North.

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Thank you all for reading. I am open to prompts- please send me a message/review if you'd like me to write about anything.


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